


Winter's End

by LadyDeb



Series: Birthright [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Torchwood
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Gen, Suzie trying to atone, a few bad words because some people don't watch their language around children, just where was Clint during Winter Soldier?, sneaky Rassilon is sneaky, very slight violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeb/pseuds/LadyDeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the dust settles in DC after the events of 'Captain America: The Winter Soldier,' Suzie travels to the nation's capital, seeking a lost lamb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Stranger Wearing My Face

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER ALERT! This story takes place shortly after the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier … by the same token, it’s also almost two years after the current storyline of Birthright. I’m trying to ensure that any spoilers will be mild … there will be mentions of births, deaths, marriages, and adoptions, but not how those events came to pass. It is also a two-parter. The first part deals with the interaction between Suzie and a badly-traumatized Bucky Barnes, who is taking the first steps to reclaiming himself. As a dear friend said after seeing the movie, ‘I want to hug him and comb his hair and give him tea and punch in the face anyone who would hurt him.’ The second part answers the question on many people’s minds … where the hell was Clint???? As to Eleanor, you’ll meet her in Dite’s Favor. Bucky may be more trusting than he should, but what Suzie's offering is better than anything he could have anticipated at this point. Besides, underestimating Suzie is dangerous, but messing with the Winter Soldier? Downright lethal.

“Suzie, I need you to go to Washington DC.”

Suzie Costello looked up from the requisition form she’d been filling out for Liam Grady (more to the point, for Safe Haven, as they’d taken to calling the new Flat Holm) when Rassilon uttered those ultimately fateful words. She arched a brow at her boss in all but name. Washington, was it? And why would she want to go even remotely near that place? Well, yes, she would do it anyhow, but the question remained … what was in Washington that she would need to go there? Especially with the massive clean-up that had been going on lately.

It had been weeks since SHIELD was revealed to be a façade for HYDRA, and the dust was still settling … both physically and metaphorically. Not just in DC and in New York, but even in this small corner of the world. Suzie watched, entranced, as the Triskelion came down on live TV, the newest Rift foundling seated in her lap and gripping her hand tightly. Tosh and Ianto were equally riveted, although Ianto looked half-sick … not just at the likely number of lives lost, but at the massive clean-up that would be required. Some things never changed.

For his own part, Rassilon didn’t seem entirely surprised by the events or by the revelations which came courtesy of Natasha Romanova (which wasn’t anything new) … just sad (which was). When Ianto asked about it, Rassilon only answered quietly that HYDRA was still known in the fifty-first century … and it was also known that SHIELD was a cover for HYDRA up until the early years of the twenty-first century. Tosh protested that Jack was from the fifty-first century, and it didn’t make sense that he would make an alliance with SHIELD, knowing such things about the organization.

Koschei, as he did with more and more frequency now, pointed out that Jack and Torchwood’s alliance was with the Avengers, not with SHIELD, regardless of what the late (?) Nick Fury thought. Eleanor caught on even before the others did (clever girl), asking if Jack meant for the alliance to be a sanctuary for the Avengers in the shitstorm that was to come. Koschei admitted that he didn’t know exactly what was in Jack’s mind and heart, but he thought it was the most likely scenario. Jack was playful, and occasionally reckless, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew something was coming, and he wanted the Avengers to have a safe place.

Which brought her right back to Rassilon’s query. She looked up at him, asking, “Does this have something to do with the fall of SHIELD?” He gave a small shrug, which was Rassilon-speak for ‘in a manner of speaking.’ The Time Lord sat down opposite her, handing her a picture of a young man. Suzie frowned thoughtfully. There was something vaguely familiar about this man. It wasn’t just that he looked like he could be related to Rassilon and to Jack, although that certainly played into it. No … no, she’d seen him before. But where? She finally asked, “And just who is this handsome young man?” She was married, she wasn’t dead … well, not any more. Or, as she heard Ianto quip once, ‘ _I was dead, but I got better_.’

“His name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky. He was one of the Howling Commandos, Captain Steve Rogers’ unit from World War II, and the lad’s best friend since they were children,” Rassilon explained. Oh. Oh, that explained a lot. And then, Rassilon dropped the other shoe, adding, “He’s also the Winter Soldier, a drone for HYDRA.” Suzie’s eyes widened in horror, forcing Rassilon to continue, “He was a programmed assassin, not something he did willingly. Captain Rogers went up against him, and that began the process of shattering his programming.”

Very little of what he was telling her would have been in any official reports … or even unofficial reports, come to that. Which meant that Rassilon was getting his information from some other source, and Suzie learned a long time ago that she didn’t want her questions about those other sources answered. Unfailingly, Rassilon’s attempts to answer broke her brain. Instead, she asked quietly, “And you want me to go to DC to find him?” Rassilon nodded, his impossibly ancient eyes boring into her soul. At least, that was what it felt like.

“I do. It will take him time before he’s ready to face Captain Rogers. HYDRA broke him, Suzie, in every way imaginable, but in turn, that boy still found the strength to break his programming and save Captain Rogers, quite possibly from another seventy years on ice. He needs time to heal, needs time to forgive himself. We can give him both,” he answered. Suzie nodded slowly, thinking about a man who was programmed against his every instinct, against everything he knew … about the acts he committed because of that programming, and then she considered how a man who was slowly regaining himself would view those acts.

She understood then, and said quietly, “That’s why you’re sending me … not Tosh or Ianto. Because out of all of us, I’m the one who probably understands him best, even though I chose to commit my sins, and he was raped. Oh, maybe not physically, but what was done to him was a violation of a horrific kind. It was still his hands that committed those crimes, even if it wasn’t his soul.” Which meant that she couldn’t take anyone with her. Damn. Even so, Suzie began to consider what she would need to take with her when she went, rather than who.

“Exactly. Bring him home, Suzie. The Compound is a place for broken souls. Bucky Barnes fits that description,” Rassilon answered and Suzie nodded almost absently. The American Flat Holm had many names, including the one that Rassilon used … the Compound. She preferred the one that Olivia Colasanto coined once Rassilon allowed her to start healing: Safe Haven. Suzie still didn’t like her, and was glad that the Time Lord still had her life tied to Anwen’s, but even she had to admit when the older woman had good ideas on occasion.

“I’ll leave in the morning. What airport should I use for my flight to DC?” Suzie inquired. In truth, she spent very little time traveling, except around the immediate environs of Safe Haven. Rassilon smirked. She knew that smirk. That smirk almost always meant that things were about to get very, very interesting. Suzie sat back with a small sigh, asking, “Do I really want to know what you’re about to say, or should I just start packing?” She would just start packing, regardless of what he said, but this was all part of their dance.

“Artemus will fly you on the Colasanto jet, my dear. Or, to borrow Ianto’s phraseology, you’ll be flying Air Colasanto. And no, Ianto is not going with you, but Eleanor is … can you imagine putting Ianto and Artemus together in a confined area?” Rassilon asked with a small shudder. Suzie didn’t bother with small … those images induced a full-body shudder in her. Rassilon continued, “Get packed, spend the night with your husband. You’ll leave first thing in the morning. And Suzie? Bring him, and yourself, back safely. Eleanor’s mission is separate and she shouldn’t be in any danger.” Suzie nodded solemnly. This wouldn’t be an easy assignment, not at all. Just from what Rassilon told her so far, she would be dealing with a man with severe PTSD and that was just the tip of the iceberg. But it needed to be done, and Suzie had a lot of work to do before she atoned for her past sins.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

James Buchanan Barnes. That was his name. And Bucky … that was the name his mission, his friend, had called him … Bucky was the name of the man in front of him, this stranger who wore his face. It was the same face, and yet, at the same time, it wasn’t. There was determination in this man’s eyes, and a darkness, but his eyes weren’t as haunted as the eyes of the man who gazed into the mirror this morning, before he came here. Here, to the Air and Space Museum. The papers after the helicarriers came down covered the disaster, of course … and they told the name of his mission, told the name of his target. Captain Steve Rogers … Captain America.

Those same papers told of the Captain America exhibit here at the Air and Space Museum, and so he found his way here. He wasn’t ready to seek out the man he was supposed to kill, the man he couldn’t let die … but he still needed answers. His name was James Buchanan Barnes and he died when he was twenty-seven years old. He died in 1944 and was born in 1927. He heard one elderly lady mourning to her husband about how young both Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were, how young so many of them were. Were they young? She seemed to think so.

He wasn’t young. He wasn’t old. He wasn’t even human … or he hadn’t been. Up until Captain America (so thin, so scrawny, except he wasn’t, not any more) plummeted into the Potomac, unconscious and possibly dying, he hadn’t been human, he hadn’t been anything but a weapon. Until he encountered the man on the bridge and detached memories bombarded his mind, memories that were wiped away. Memories … there was a figure looming over him, whispering his name and helping him up, murmuring, ‘ _I thought you were dead_.’ He heard his own voice answering, ‘ _I thought you were smaller_.’ Blurry images danced before his eyes as he tried to get his bearings, before he was led away from that horror. At least for a while. The conversation between the two friends continued in his head, even as he stared at the stranger wearing his face.

‘ _What happened to you_?’

‘ _I joined the Army_.’ And that didn’t make any sense, but the proof was before him … scrawny little Steve, whose heart was bigger than his body allowed for. Besides, after what he experienced, why not? When he asked if it hurt, Steve allowed that it did, a little. And so Bucky Barnes, who wasn’t the Winter Soldier, asked the logical next question, ‘ _Is it permanent_?’ Steve, showing the same patience Bucky used with his exasperating friend while they were growing up, answered almost absently, ‘ _So far_.’ There were more memories … more battles, more laughter, more protecting his friends, more his friends protecting him. So many memories … teasing atop a mountain, and a train in the distance.

And then, he saw Steve reaching out to him desperately, screaming his name … just before Bucky’s grip faltered, and he was torn away from the train, away from his best friend, away from everything that mattered to him. He was torn away from those he loved and his life, and turned into … he was vaguely aware that his breathing was coming quick and fast now as the two halves of his life warred with each other, and a gentle hand on his cheek pushed him over the edge. He hadn’t even sensed that someone was near him, didn’t realize there was a potential threat … and he reacted accordingly, seizing whoever touched him by the throat.

It was, of course, the wrong thing to do when trying to lie low, trying to stay off the grid and avoid attention of any kind (because right now, attention of any kind was bad), but even as he forced his fingers to release the other person, that individual was saying hoarsely, speaking to someone else (one of the security guards?) “It’s fine! I should know better than that! It’s fine, _really_ … he’s my younger brother, and I lost track of him. It’s my fault, totally my fault … I thought it would be a good outing. He’s suffering from a very severe case of PTSD … I’m so sorry, love, I didn’t mean to frighten you. He was affected by that monstrosity called the Miracle a few years ago ... in fact, he was one of the experimentees. We only just found him a few months ago. Yeah, the damned Families wanted to try again. Come on back to me, Jamie.”

Jamie. That was the wrong name, but at the same time, it was right. That was the first thing that occurred to him. The second thing was, the other person? It was a woman, and in the part of him that was still Bucky Barnes and still appreciated a beautiful woman, he noticed that she was extremely pretty. And the final thing that he noticed was her English accent. He’d served with a Brit once, hadn’t he? There was a Brit who was captured with him … Falsworth. One of the Howling Commandos. Falsworth. Dum-dum. Morita. Jacques. Gabe.   

His ‘sister’ spoke again, saying, “C’mon, let’s get a hot dog or something. The exhibit will be here another few weeks. Yes, he hears that a lot … people are often commenting on his resemblance to Bucky Barnes. It doesn’t hurt that he has the same first name.” She linked arms with him, gently drawing him away from the crowd, away from the concerned (and suspicious) expressions of the security guards, away from the exhibit which provided only a few answers, just enough to provoke even more questions in his mind. She could have been trying to kill him. That was a possibility. But … he didn’t think that was the case. Not this time. Besides, he was curious about what she _was_ doing.

As they walked, she said softly, “I’m sorry about the subterfuge, but I saw you starting to have a panic attack, and wanted to avoid suspicion as much as possible. I know you’re trying to fly under the radar while you get your head straight, and that would have been impossible if your panic attack drew more attention. Try to stay with the cover story. If anyone asks why you have a Yank accent and I have an English one, it’s because we had different fathers, and you were raised here in the States.” A very good cover story, and an easy one to remember. Which brought up another issue … one that his new ‘sister’ seemed to have thought of, as she added, “By the way, I’m Suzie. You don’t need to answer, don’t even need to speak, but I just thought that was something you needed to know.”

He merely nodded as they made their way out of the exhibit hall and onto one of the many walkways. He had been Bucky, and then a weapon, and now he was being called ‘Jamie.’ It was an interesting progression. Suzie led him down the stairs, quietly murmuring apologies as she never let go of his hand or his arm, and then eventually out of the museum, talking about anything other than what just happened … both in the museum and in the city. The part of him that was Bucky, those slowly re-emerging memories, pointed out to him that he would have been responsible for the deaths of so many of these people. The Winter Soldier simply saw the people scurrying around them, many of them still traumatized themselves, as being simply in the way (at best) or targets (at worst).

He shook those thoughts away, unnerved not just by the war going on within his own soul, but how the Bucky part of him reacted to the Winter Soldier’s thoughts. Instead, he focused on the walk as Suzie led him to a quiet Italian restaurant. At the entrance, she squeezed his arm gently, saying softly, “We’ll be able to talk in here. The owner is a friend of a friend.” Talk? He looked at her more closely and Suzie added quietly, “You didn’t really think that I just happened to be at the exhibit, did you? I was sent.” He froze and Suzie stopped as well, reaching up slowly to put both hands on his cheeks and making sure that he saw the contact coming this time. Suzie said, her dark eyes boring into his, “I’m _not_ here to hurt you. I’m _not_ here to make trouble. I’m here to _help_ you. The man I work for … Steve Rogers is a friend of his son’s. And we know that you’re not ready to face your friend … we also know that you need answers, and a place to put yourself back together. We can do that. We can provide all of that.”

At the name, he began to relax. He wasn’t sure why he believed her. But even if she didn’t have answers for him, maybe this man whom she worked for did. Once he began to relax, Suzie released him and linked arms with him once more, saying, “C’mon. I’ll tell you more once we have our table. It’s a long story, and kind of incredible, but after what you and Steve have both been through, it may not be so hard to believe.” He found his facial muscles moving in an unfamiliar way … and for the first time since he fell from that train, so many years earlier, James Buchanan Barnes could smile.

 

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

If she _ever_ got her hands on the **wankers** who created the Winter Soldier, who stripped Bucky Barnes of his humanity … it almost made her wish that she had the Resurrection Gauntlet and its accompanying dagger back, just so she could kill the bastards and bring them back to life. Almost. Even now, nearly three years after being brought back to life by Rassilon, Suzie was still haunted by what she did. And those were her _own_ choices! She chose to become that monster, to become what she hated most. Bucky? He had no choice. Rassilon included a dossier in her carry-on bag (arsehole … if he didn’t do it, he had Eleanor do it), and she read that file during the extremely long flight from Nevada to DC. Everything that made him Bucky, that made him a charming gentleman and a loyal friend, all of that was stripped away. And if Arnim Zola still had a physical body, he would be her first target.

It made her ill. It actually made her physically ill. She wasn’t making excuses for what she did. Anything but! And she knew that in time, she would have become even worse. Maybe that was why she was so angry. She looked at Bucky and she saw what she did to Max Tresilian. It was something she never really allowed herself to think about … too concerned about what she’d done to her friends and to the people she’d killed. She’d never really allowed herself to think about her other victims. And knowing Rassilon, that probably played into his decision to send her. He was sneaky like that.

However, she wasn’t the important one right now. Bucky was. God, he was so damn young! As their drink orders were placed in front of them, he said quietly, “He knew me. Steve. When my mask came off, and he saw my face, he called me ‘Bucky.’ And I asked him who the hell Bucky was. He knew me. He knew me and called me by name. They wiped my memory again, because I couldn’t let it go. They … they knew I was no longer theirs, and they couldn’t take that.” There was a growing, quiet rage in his voice and Suzie didn’t dare to interrupt. Not that she really wanted to.

But then, he looked at her and asked, “How … what do I do now?” Impulsively (because it worked out so well the first time she did it … not), she reached out and took his hand. He looked down at their clasped hands almost curiously, but didn’t lash out this time. Nor did he take it, but that didn’t matter. They were making progress. Suzie didn’t remove her hand, and after a long moment, his free hand (his human hand) covered hers. Yes. Yes, they were definitely making progress.

“Come back with me. I know for a fact that Steve is already looking for you. He wants to help you, but he doesn’t know how. My friend, the lady who traveled with me, she’s … I suppose you could say that she’s a psychologist. She lost everything during a war … her husband, both of her sons. She almost lost her mind. But she put herself back together, and while she doesn’t know what you’ve been through, she can make a start,” Suzie told him.

He stared at her for a long time, and Suzie wondered what he was thinking. She couldn’t really get a read on him … not yet. Eleanor might have better luck with that. At last, the young man asked, “What do you want from me?” It was, she reminded herself, a perfectly logical question. After the way he’d been used, how could he not ask that question? He continued, “What’s in this for you? Yes, you’ve told me that you’re working for a man whose son is friends with Captain Rogers, with Steve, but what’s in it for you?” Suzie’s mouth went dry at the question.

She could have told him any number of things. There were so many answers to that particular question. She could have told him that Rassilon gave her back her life (which was true, but she really wasn’t ready to have that conversation with him). She could have been flippant and told him that she was always on the look-out for good-looking men to add to the household (which was also true … what? She was married, but she could still look. She just couldn’t touch). She could have even told him that she was damaged, too. That was also the truth.

But in the end, she stuck with the foundations of the truth, telling him, “What do I get out of this? Atonement.” Her companion arched his brows questioningly, and Suzie explained, “I used to be a very bad person. Not because I was turned into a weapon, not even because I was misled, but because I wanted to be. It was because I loved the power that I was given, power of life and death, and cheating death … if only for a few minutes. I blamed the organization I worked for, because they gave me access to technology that fed into that desire for power. But the truth is, it revealed my flaws. I suppose I could blame them still, but I finally grew up and started taking responsibility for my own actions.”

She took a sip of her water, staring into the eyes of the Winter Soldier, who was slowly becoming Bucky once more. After a moment, Suzie went on, “Ever since I got my life back, started turning myself around, I’ve started making amends. I hurt so many people. Unlike my former boss Jack, the son of my current boss, I’ve done far more terrible things than good. Little by little, I’ve been making amends, by protecting people and trying to help others. But there was something that I failed to do. I hurt my friends Tosh, Owen and Ianto. I’ve been making things up to them. I hurt Jack, and I’ve tried to make things up to him. And while I can’t make amends to those I killed, I can save others. I can and I have. But there was one person whom I never made amends to.   Someone I used, as badly as you’ve been used. I hurt him so badly … repeatedly wiped his memory, the way your memory has been wiped. And in the end, because I wiped his memory so many times, I ended up causing brain damage.”

Suzie looked at her hands, remembering the awful hole that opened up at her feet when Ianto told her about Max’s final fate. And what hurt her even more was the compassion in the young man’s eyes. She said slowly around the lump that was growing in her throat, “In the end, Jack had to place him in … well, basically a hospice. He never got better, and finally, his actions put the lives of the other patients in danger. Because of my actions, a lot of innocent people nearly died, and you know something, I didn’t even care. I didn’t see human beings … I saw subjects, I saw what I thought was the greater good, but was in fact just my desire for power. It started so innocently … I wanted to make sure that I was never helpless again. It morphed into something far, far worse. You want to know what I get out of helping you? If I can do this, if I can help Bucky re-emerge from the Winter Soldier, then Max is avenged. Selfish? Of course. But like I keep telling my best friend and my husband, I’m not truly reformed. I just have different priorities.” Once more, Bucky was silent for a long time, those eyes never leaving her face.

Did she wonder what he was thinking? Of course she was, how could she not? Then again, she also wondered if bringing him back to Safe Haven was particularly smart while Tosh was there. Rassilon assured her that there wouldn’t be an issue, that one of the men in the Howling Commandos was himself of Japanese extraction, one Jim Morita. Which, now that Suzie thought about it, she remembered seeing his picture among the Howling Commandos. And that alleviated her concern, at least a little.

At last, he asked quietly, “What will you need me to do?” And that, perhaps, was the question with the easiest answer. Once more making sure to telegraph her moves (because being choked to death? Not a fun sensation, not something she cared to repeat), Suzie reached forward to cup his cheek with the hand not cradled between his. He froze, but didn’t jerk back, not even when she stroked his cheek with her thumb. Once again, she marveled at how very young he was. He was so young and so old at the same time. In some ways, he was just a child again, and for the first time, it hit Suzie, just how much of a responsibility Rassilon gave her. More to the point, just how much trust and faith he placed in her. For the first time in her life, she understood the phrase, ‘ _I am humbled by your faith in me_.’

“What do you need to do? You need to heal from what they did to you, and that includes letting someone look at your arm, to see if it was done properly. You need to bring Bucky and the Winter Soldier into alignment. Because one thing I know? You can’t just be one or the other, you have to be both, and you’re the only person who can do it. We can help, but you’re the one with the biggest job. And finally, you need to be patient with yourself, especially when your memories start breaking loose. You need to have patience with yourself, and you’ll need to learn to forgive yourself, even though you weren’t in control. There will come a time, maybe sooner and maybe later, but there will come a time when you’ll start to remember things that will horrify Bucky Buchanan, and it won’t matter that he wasn’t in control, what will matter is that it was his hands that committed those acts. When that happens, don’t shut us out. We’ve all done horrible things, and we’ve all had to learn to forgive ourselves. You may always be broken, Bucky. But maybe, in time, you’ll become more whole. Are you willing to take that chance? Are you willing to accept our help, if it means letting Steve Rogers find you when you’re both ready? Because he had a journey of his own to undertake, one that will allow him to understand what you’ve been through, and despite what he may think, he’s not ready to meet up with you again,” Suzie answered, her slim fingers tightening around his non-human hand.

Bucky looked down at their interlaced fingers and gave a very small nod. But it was enough. Suzie offered him her most radiant smile, and waved over the waiter. He approached with a smile, and she said, “We’re ready to order now, my friend …” She paused, not knowing what name to call him (not that it really mattered right now). Words formed on his lips, and Suzie’s smile broadened further. She looked up at the waiter, saying, “My friend Bucky and I. And unless I miss my guess, he’s going to trust me to order for him.” Her companion rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. And this? This, she sensed, was the beginning of a _beautiful_ friendship (regardless of how clichéd that sounded).

 

TBC 


	2. An Island of Normalcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long journey, Clint is finally back on native soil and now must start putting the pieces of his life back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was wrong. There will be three parts, rather than the original two I planned. Something was said, and I realized that I would need a third chapter to return to Suzie, Bucky and the others in Nevada … sort of a progress report. To any new readers, welcome aboard. If you’re curious about the story where Suzie comes back to life, courtesy of Rassilon, you can find that in ‘To Whom Much is Given.’ The resurrections of Ianto and Tosh can be found respectively in ‘Prime and Prince’ and ‘The Hidden Child,’ while Owen’s return is chronicled in ‘The Homecoming.’ A few quick things about this specific chapter. First, I lived in the Carlisle area of Pennsylvania for seventeen years, which is why I chose that general area for Clint’s meeting with Jack. Secondly, this is much shorter than usual, and is told entirely from Clint’s perspective (rather than three blocks from the perspective of three characters, which is how I normally do things. In other words, this is really more of an interlude than it is an actual chapter. Oh, and I can’t forget the holidays this week. To those who celebrate them … happy Easter, Passover, and Ostara.

Disclaimer: I forgot to do this in the first part. (shakes head) Forgot a lot of things. Clint, Steve & Bucky don’t belong to me … they belong to Marvel. Jacob belongs to Syfy and whoever wrote _Stonehenge Apocalypse_. Jack, Suzie, Tosh, Owen, and Angelo and Olivia Colasanto don’t belong to me … they belong to the BBC and Starz. Rassilon belongs to whoever first created Doctor Who. The only individuals who belong to me are Liam Grady, Eleanor, Drew and Natalie (as well as Natalie’s family). As ever, you’re welcome to borrow them, just please, ask first and return them to me reasonably intact (after all, this is _Torchwood_ )

 

 

Central Pennsylvania

The following week

 

Later, much later, once his world began to right itself, Clint Barton would start putting things together in his mind. The how and the why and maybe even a little of the when. But at the time things fell apart, it all happened too quickly … it seemed as if literally, one moment, he was joking with the others on the op (gathering intel on a weapons dealer headquartered in Rome), and then the next? In next, he was receiving a coded message from Natasha warning him to get the hell out of Dodge, the others were gunning each other down, and it was only the fact that he was gathering his kit up that saved his life.

It was several days before he found out what happened and why Natasha wanted him off the grid. It was the only way she had to protect him, since she was physically unable to watch his back. As it turned out, being off the grid didn’t mean he was without help or resources. Two days after SHIELD fell, he encountered unexpected help in the form of a youngish man and a teenage boy who met him in Budapest (really, Natasha?). They provided him with a code phrase he and Natasha set up, as well as a change of clothes, a full backpack, and a cover story. While he didn’t trust them entirely, he also wouldn’t turn down help. As they traveled, the pair told him that they were dispatched to help him get back to the States. Their way would take longer, but it would be safer for him. What was even more interesting? The man, whose name was ‘Jacob,’ had an American accent, while his young companion Drew had an English accent and called the American (who was around Clint’s own age) by his given name. So, not his father.

And, as it turned out, they weren’t kidding about it taking longer. But at last, here he was in the good ol’ US of A, and everything Clint thought he knew, everything he believed in was shattered.   At least he wasn’t dying, which was more than he could say for Jack Harkness, who was leaning heavily against Clint as the two men mounted the stairs that led to the hotel suite which the immortal (after a fashion) captain was sharing with a woman very dear to Clint. The archer’s right arm was slung around the captain’s waist, while his left hand held the hotel key card. He muttered, “Sweet heaven, Harkness, trust you to get into trouble even here.”

‘Here,’ as it turned out, was a small town in central Pennsylvania, about an hour southwest of Hershey, Pennsylvania. It was a beautiful area, and Clint hoped that he would have the chance to see it properly in the future. Jack groaned a little as they finally reached the floor where the suite was, rasping out, “Yeah, next time, I’ll let you get gutted.” Clint winced a bit at the reminder that Jack was fatally injured while protecting the sniper.   It didn’t matter that Jack would bounce back to life, just as good as new … what mattered was he took a knife that was meant for Clint. And he had an alarming habit of doing things like that. Really, when you thought about it, it really wasn’t a surprise that he and Steve were such good friends. In that respect, at least, they were two of a kind. It was also how he knew Jack didn’t really mean that. The man was hard-wired to protect others.

He didn’t bother answering, though, not even to point that out. Instead, he located the room in question, and slid the key card home. The light flashed green, and the door clicked open. Clint pushed it open, just in time to see Natalie Tregarth walking the floor with her seven month old daughter. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, before striding forward to assist them. Not that she could carry Harkness … it wasn’t exactly easy for Clint, and he was a helluva lot bigger than Nat was. She said softly, starting to put her baby on the bed, “I’ll help you get him into the next room, and then you can take a shower.” Clint shook his head and Nat stopped moving.

“Just get the door, I can take care of Harkness,” he told her. She eyed him thoughtfully, but after only a brief consideration, she wheeled around and led him to the room, still holding Jocelyn. Thank God. Clint was strong, but Jack was almost a dead weight by now (no pun intended). Still cradling Jocelyn in her arms, Nat led him into the spare bedroom, where Clint eased Jack onto the bed. At the same time, Nat was carefully placing her infant daughter in the crib that sat just to the right of the window. Not a good place to have it, but he would help to move it later. As he carefully made Jack as comfortable as he could be with a hole in his gut, he called over his shoulder, “You look good, Nat. Becoming a mom again … oof!”

His compliment was cut off in mid-sentence as Nat threw her arms around his waist in a fierce hug. Thankfully, he’d straightened up at that point, or things could have gotten interesting. Even so, Clint folded his own arms around Nat’s small body, some of the tension bleeding out of his body, because God, it was so good to be with people whom he knew and trusted once again. Jacob and Drew were fine, but he didn’t know them, and they didn’t know him. He rested his cheek against her hair and just held on. She wasn’t Natasha, but she was Natalie, and right now, that was good enough. She was normalcy and stability in an even more topsy-turvy world.

“I am _so_ glad you’re okay! You go take a shower, I’ll look after Jack and then when he’s back, the three of us can talk. I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Nat replied, kissed his cheek as she pulled back. Clint could only nod. Looking closer, he could see the strain in her eyes which never went away completely, even now, more than a year after her father’s death. Clint still didn’t know how Carlyon Tregarth died, and no one in Torchwood seemed inclined to tell him. Not yet, at least. What he did know was that Jack was once more running Torchwood, with Sophia Tregarth taking point on interagency cooperation. Thank God.

Clint was on the point of saying something, but Jocelyn began to fuss. With an apologetic smile for him, Nat released him and gently squeezed Jack’s sock-covered foot, before going to her daughter and scooping her up into her arms. Clint turned his attention to Jack, whose breathing was slow and labored. But the man’s blue eyes were focused on Natalie and the little girl she held in her arms, and there was a faint smile on his face. Jack’s eyes shifted back to Clint as he quietly died. Clint looked away, straight into Nat’s worried dark eyes. He managed a small smile for her, one that she returned.

“I’ll … uhm … I think it’s time for that shower you mentioned,” Clint forced out. It didn’t matter how many times he saw it happen, he didn’t think he would ever be comfortable with watching Jack die and come back to life. Then again, he was pretty sure that it wasn’t especially comfortable for Jack, either. It was just … it was something that shouldn’t happen. It didn’t affect Clint’s opinion of Jack … the man hadn’t chosen this, after all. The archer just didn’t want to be around when the captain died or revived. Nat offered a gentle smile as he escaped into the bathroom. The last he saw of her as he closed the door was her sitting down on the bed beside Jack, Jocelyn cradled against her chest as a free hand stroked Jack’s hair gently.

He stripped quickly and methodically, stepping into the shower after ensuring it was warm enough. Sore muscles needed warmth … heat, even … and it had been weeks since he’d had a good soaking. As he soaped himself (borrowing Nat’s body wash accidentally … thank God she didn’t go for floral scents), Clint considered what he learned from Jack before all hell broke loose (again). His entire professional life for the last few years … based on a lie. And Natasha? God, what was she feeling now? Clint rested his forehead against the smooth wall of the shower, because how in the hell did you put yourself back together after something like that?

You just did, he knew. It wasn’t the first betrayal he experienced, and he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last, either. Hell, he _knew_ it wouldn’t be the last. And the letter which Jack gave him from Natasha … that told him even more. They were still getting an accurate body count from the fall of the Triskelion, to say nothing of the helicarriers. So many dead. But if the small team hadn’t done what it did, the casualties would have been far worse.

He supposed he could have blamed Cap, since it was his idea to take SHIELD down, because you couldn’t take one down without taking down the other. There was a part of him that wanted to. But the truth was, he really couldn’t. It wasn’t Cap who let those bastards into SHIELD. He just unmasked them. And, this was the same man who placed his faith in Clint. The archer knew men who would have killed him for what he did while under Loki’s sway. Granted, it was on Natasha’s word that he trusted Clint, but still. Besides, Natasha told him in the letter that much as he hated it, Fury agreed to the plan. Natasha saw the necessity. So did Hill, and SHIELD was her whole life, there was nothing else. If Fury and Hill were giving up … Clint squeezed his eyes shut. He would start over, it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

At last, he stepped out of the shower and dried off, smiling a little to see the clothes that Nat ever so thoughtfully laid out. There were two sets, side by side, and each bearing a card with his and Jack’s names written on them in Nat’s nearly microscopic handwriting. He dressed, no closer to a solution than he had been when Jack found him nearly three hours before, but his head was a little clearer. He padded into the room where Jack died, to find the immortal alive, stripped to his trousers, sitting up in bed and cuddling Jocelyn. He looked up and offered Clint a small smile, observing, “Nat went to get food for us grown-ups. Decided to give us some daddy-daughter time … right, gorgeous?”

Jocelyn babbled excitedly at her father, and Clint couldn’t help but smile. He observed, “Yeah, she’s your daughter all right. She has Nat’s smile, though.” Harkness grinned at that, and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. Clint asked after a moment, “How does she get on with Esther?” Harkness smiled a bit at the reference to his on-again, off-again lover. They actually had an interesting relationship. Esther sometimes referred to herself as a satellite to Jack’s sun. Sometimes, she moved out of his orbit, but she always returned. She seemed perfectly happy with the way things were between them.

“She adores Jocelyn, and Jocelyn adores her right back. Don’t you, baby doll? Your mom is glad that you look like me, but I’m glad you have her personality,” Jack answered, kissing the tip of the baby’s nose. Jocelyn made a funny little noise that made both men smile. Jack continued softly, “You know that Nat named the baby after me and after her dad, right? She didn’t want to name her ‘Jacqueline,’ thought that was too obvious, and ‘Jocelyn’ was close enough to Jack without being blatant about it. And ‘Caroline’ was the closest she could come to ‘Carlyon.’ It still stuns me that she asked if I would object to naming Josie after her father.”

Clint hadn’t known that, but it didn’t surprise him. Nat took her father’s final betrayal of Jack hard, even if it was for a ‘good’ cause, especially after she nearly betrayed Jack when her older daughter was kidnapped. That was the trouble, though, with betrayal and ‘good’ intentions … Clint shook himself and redirected his attention away from his own experiences with betrayal, including the most recent one. The two men were silent for several moments, while they played with Jocelyn. Eventually, though, Clint asked the question which nagged at him, “Does it bother you? Her middle name, I mean?”

Jack didn’t answer at first … he was busy playing with his daughter, making her squeal with laughter as he waggled his fingers at her and tickled her. Even so, Clint recognized it for the delaying tactic that it was. He was a master of his own delaying tactics. Archery was as much about timing as it was about hitting the target.

“Carlyon was Natalie’s father. Yeah, for thirty-four years, she believed that he was her grandfather, but he was her father. She was angry with him for … well, for the way things fell out before he died, but he was her father and she loved him. She knew and appreciated what he did to keep her safe, appreciated the sacrifices he made for her, and yes, those were sacrifices,” Jack replied. Clint nodded, but Jack wasn’t answering his question. The immortal captain said quietly, “No. No, it doesn’t bother me. I choose to remember Carlyon as the five year old boy I was trapped with and as the young man I served with and trained and even the old man who brought me back home. Not as he was in the hours before he died.”

Clint swallowed hard. Instead of going further with that line of questioning, he chose something safer. Besides, he was a man, and doing the touchy-feely, heart-to-heart thing? Not for him, except when it came to his two Nats. He asked lightly, “So, DC? Were you there?” Jack shook his head emphatically and Clint bit back a grin, because given what Jack had been through when the 456 came calling? There was no way in the world Clint could blame him. Truth was, Clint had as little to do with politicians as he could possibly get away with. Funny thing was, all of the Avengers felt that way, even the ones most intimate with politics (eg, Thor, who was a prince in his own realm and would one day be king of Asgard).

“No. No, I was in Connecticut, finalizing the new Torchwood charter here in the States. I heard from Steve, though … I left him a voice message as soon as I realized something was wrong, and he called me once he was released from hospital,” Jack admitted. That was … a rather interesting way of putting it. ‘ _Something was wrong_.’ They were still cleaning up in DC from HYDRA’s attempts to take out Nick Fury, and the unleashing of the Winter Soldier. Jocelyn began to fuss, and Jack pulled her against his chest. The baby settled down, hearing her father’s heart beat. Jack kissed the top of her head and Clint’s chest hurt just a bit. Not just as the father and daughter cuddling like this, but …

Once more, he shook himself, but before he had the chance to say anything, there was a small ruckus at the front door, then the sound of the door unlocking, and a familiar feminine voice cursing. Jack grinned and called, “Not in front of the baby, Nat-Nat-Natalie!” Both Jack and Clint laughed at the obscene language coming from the tiny woman now entering the room with several bags in her arms. Clint bounced up from the bed to help her, still giggling. As soon as one of her hands was free, she flipped off Jack, European style. Clint didn’t bother asking her where she learned it. Her late father was from the UK, her college roommate was Italian, after all. While her niece Esther was the primary contact person for the other Torchwood-like institutions all over the world, Natalie often assisted when Esther was … unavailable (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

“Don’t even try to tell me that Josie saw that, Jack, especially with the way you’re holding her. You look better, Clint … look like you feel better too,” Nat observed, dark eyes sweeping over Clint. Her eyes returned to his, and he was warmed by the concern which he saw there. As they traveled through Europe, Jacob admitted that they knew Clint could have gotten back to the States without help. They were there more as cover than anything else … two Americans backpacking with a nephew of one of the men. He also admitted that the network they were with, Bulwark, supported Torchwood … who was, in turn, affiliated with the Avengers. Not, he was quick to point out, with SHIELD, but with the Avengers. Clint wondered if Fury knew that.

“I do. And you look fantastic, in case I didn’t say it earlier,” Clint answered. And she did. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face (probably in her favorite barrette, because she hated scrunchies), and she was dressed in a pair of tight jeans that Natasha called jeggings, a cross between jeans and leggings. Clint honestly didn’t care what they were called, just how they looked … on the right women, they looked sensational, and both of his Nats were the right women in this case. But her expression … her relaxed, amused expression was the best part. It was good to see her like this, after the hell she and her extended family had been through lately.

She blushed, but much to his delight, Natalie only thanked him with a light kiss to his cheek, before saying, “Okay, give me about thirty minutes and I’ll have dinner ready. Be warned, I bought enough food to feed both Steve and Thor, so we’ll probably have food for the trip back to Oklahoma. Steve and Sam Wilson are following Sergeant Barnes’ trail, but they’ll be checking in with us at the end of the week. Oh, Sam Wilson is the latest addition to the fold, Clint. I’ve never met him face to face, but we Skyped while Steve was in the hospital. He’s a really nice guy. Rex got snarky, and Sam shut him down, double time. It was pretty funny … Rex was gaping like a landed fish. And Lucas … he was practically rolling on the floor laughing. Jason and Owen literally had to pick up from the ground before someone stepped on him.”

Now Clint was _really_ sorry that he missed it. That wasn’t the only thing he missed, however, and he told her, “Speaking of Rex, I’m sorry that I missed the wedding. I saw the pictures … Octavia looked radiant.” He was rewarded with Nat’s most brilliant smile. It was true … he had scrolled through the pictures which Steve sent him while he was on assignment in Italy before everything went south. Clint added after a moment, “But really, my favorite picture? Was of Ailsa in her flower girl dress.” This time, he was gifted with a sweet smile at the mention of Natalie’s oldest daughter.

“That was a darling picture of her. She told me before we left that she was glad I don’t usually go away for missions … but since it was you, it was different. She’s been very worried about you, ever since Steve told us about HYDRA,” Nat answered. She paused as the men followed her into the kitchenette like a pair of ducklings, Jocelyn still ensconced in her father’s arms, and then added, “She’s also worried about Tony. You know she has a huge crush on him. The last time she told me that she was going to marry him, I asked her what would happen to Pepper. She thought about that for a minute, and then announced that they would both marry him. I pointed out that was bigamy and of course, Lucas said …”

“Yes, it’s big of me, too!” Clint and Jack chimed in together with the (in)famous quote from the Marx Brothers. Nat rolled her eyes, but grinned as well. She began making spaghetti with the food she’d bought, occasionally slapping his hand or Jack’s whenever they would try to steal a stalk of pasta or a pinch of parmesan cheese. She did not, however, order them from the kitchen or demand that they help her. Clint leaned back, enjoying this small island of normalcy for as long as it lasted. And it wouldn’t last, he knew that. There would be more betrayals ahead of them, more confrontations, more bad guys to take down, regardless of their affiliation.

Those times always had to come. There would be quiet times, a lull between the fighting, and then someone would start something (or put a plan eighty years in the making into effect, as the Families demonstrated so perfectly … Clint had to wonder if they were in league with HYDRA as well. Hmm. Something to look into, although they could also be rivals for world domination). Things like that would always happen, because that was just the way it worked.

But those quiet times, the lulls between the fighting? You had to have those, to remember what you were fighting for. Maybe not for your own family, if you didn’t have one, but for someone else’s family. You had to have these times of light, these blessed islands of normalcy (or what passed for normalcy in your corner of the world) to keep going, to keep fighting. Soon, Clint would be on his way again, to return to the Avengers or to help rebuild SHIELD, whatever was necessary. It turned out that he really did have red in his ledger, and while he couldn’t blot it out, much less wipe it out, he could at least control the hemorrhage.

With that acknowledgment, Clint’s world, shattered by the revelation that his professional life was based on a lie, began to be put back together. Less than a week ago, he was told that he would be helping to take out an arms dealer. Who knew what his real crime was? Maybe he was an arms dealer, and maybe he was just a man whom HYDRA feared. He might never know. Nat huffed, breaking into Clint’s thought process, “Okay, move … I need to get this bread into the oven. Jack, can you get the baby food out for Jocelyn?”

Jack responded with an exaggerated salute, answering, “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Nat rolled her eyes and swatted his butt as he turned to remove the necessary baby food jar from the cabinet (to say nothing of the itty-bitty spoon Josie would need). Jack responded with a squeak that didn’t fool Clint at all. Jack was an immortal who would see all of his children and all of his lovers die, and Natalie was a mortal woman who would live about as long as Clint would himself, a woman who was far more innocent than either of her adult companions. But this was Clint’s island of normalcy until the insanity kicked in again, and he planned to enjoy it for as long as he could. Glimpsing Jack’s expression as he sauntered around the kitchen with his baby daughter in his arms, Clint was pretty sure that Jack would be enjoying it as much as he could as well. A phrase flitted through his mind, ‘for those darkest of times, let us take what we can of the light.’ He didn’t remember what it was from, but damn, it sure fit the situation.

 

TBC

 


	3. Piece by Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rassilon contemplates his newest ‘child;’ Bucky thinks on his resemblance to a mosaic, and Suzie gets a forcible reminder not to make assumptions … especially not about Rassilon. She really should know better by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we come to the finale of Winter’s End. The next story will take us back to 2012, and is set primarily in the UK. That will be After the Rain, and sees the growth of Bulwark. Oh, and quick warning about the f-bomb coming from a child (only because she doesn’t know better and heard it from someone who also knows better and really needs to be more careful about what she says around young children).

“You’re becoming more and more like Ianto every day. This is the third time this week I’ve found you out here,” Lord President Rassilon of Gallifrey said as he approached the newest member of his odd little family. James Buchanan Barnes was staring into the Nevada night, turning only when Rassilon approached. In the four months since Suzie returned from Washington with the former assassin and Eleanor, Rassilon made it a practice to speak as he approached the young amnesiac. It was only good sense, but after seeing Bucky nearly choke Koschei into another regeneration after the former Master carelessly touched the unaware soldier … well, as young Lily was so fond of saying, ‘ _common sense is anything but common_.’ What he found hilarious was the way she glared at all of them when she said it, including Rassilon.

Bucky looked over his shoulder at him but said nothing. Not at first. Feeling a bit discomfited at the boy’s silence, Rassilon continued, “What is it that fascinates you so, child? Is it the mountains? The lack of buildings? There are buildings, they’re just behind us.” Bucky shook his head, his dark hair now neatly combed. When Suzie first arrived with him, he looked like a feral man-child, with his long hair and wary expression. Lily took one look at him, squeaked in distress, grabbed his flesh and blood hand and dragged him into the nearest bathroom. Much to the amusement of the three women, this big, tough, bad-ass former assassin looked at them plaintively, as if begging them to be rescued from the diminutive teenager. Of course, they didn’t and it fell to Ianto to bring the youngster under control. Which he did, and made no comments about Bucky needed to be rescued.   However, his lips did twitch as he led the protesting Lily away and let Suzie, Tosh, and Eleanor work.

And still, Bucky said nothing. It wasn’t that the boy didn’t talk … he did. He tended to avoid talking to the two Time Lords, as well as Ianto and Tosh (and, to some degree, Lily). However, Rassilon overheard his conversations with Liam Grady, with Suzie, and with Eleanor (who told the young man to call her ‘Nora.’ It seemed that Bucky reminded her of her younger brother, and that was his nickname for her). At last, Rassilon said quietly, “What do you think about when you look out that way?”

For the first time, Bucky spoke, answering, “How easy it would be for me to slip away in the night, when the others are sleeping … and never be found.” Well. That wasn’t entirely unexpected. In fact, if anything, Rassilon was more surprised that it hadn’t come up earlier. Even so, he didn’t speak. The boy spoke so rarely. Bucky arched an eyebrow, saying with obvious surprise, “You aren’t going to talk me out of it? Try to tell me that what’s left of both SHIELD and HYDRA want a piece of me for various reasons?”

“Why would I do that?” Rassilon countered and the youngster looked even more surprised. The Time Lord continued, “Why should I tell you what you already know, what you’ve thought thousands upon thousands of times? That would be a waste of time, energy, and breath, and while I’m a Time Lord, a Lord of Time, that doesn’t mean I enjoy wasting it.” A small smile crossed Bucky’s face at that observation, and Rassilon went on, “No, I’m far more interested in why you haven’t done it yet. What keeps you here, James Buchanan Barnes?”

“Where will I go?” was the somewhat predictable response. There was a wild half-laugh as Rassilon was forcibly reminded once again that while Bucky was reclaiming parts of himself daily, he was still the Winter Soldier and always would be. The young man repeated, “Where would I go? Back to HYDRA? After what they did to me? Are you out of your mind? To SHIELD? In case you’ve forgotten, I killed their director!” Rassilon bit back his irritation with that way the boy spoke to him … especially since Ianto was known to do worse, and that wasn’t taking into account how certain other individuals behaved when they were in their cups.

Instead, he answered quite patiently, “You could go to Steve.” Bucky shook his head, turning away once again, and Rassilon repeated, “You can go to him. You’ve remembered more of your friendship with him, James.” The usual of his real name obviously shocked him, because he once more turned to face Rassilon, who went on, “I’ll admit that I don’t know Steve especially well, but my son does … and based on what Jack has told me about him, I think he’ll just be glad to have you back. Even if you aren’t as he remembers … maybe even especially given that, because he isn’t the same person you remember, either.” Bucky was shaking his head, but Rassilon knew it wasn’t in negation of what he was saying. Still, he waited patiently, because that was all he could do right now.

“Not yet. I … this isn’t about what Steve wants or expects. I … I had another memory tear free last night, while I was reading to Ghislaine. One minute, I was reading to her, and the next minute …” Bucky explained, before breaking off and shuddering. Rassilon cast his mind back, trying to remember if Ghislaine seemed any more … withdrawn … this morning than she usually was. No … she actually seemed more animated than normal this morning, more like a six year old girl should be, regardless of her species, rather than the traumatized child they first met three months earlier when she first arrived at the Compound.

And that wasn’t the point, Rassilon understood now. It wasn’t what he did to Ghislaine, because he was willing to bet the little human money he possessed that Bucky did _nothing_ to the little girl. Rather, it was that she saw something Bucky thought should have remained hidden. He was almost overly-protective of the Riftugee youngsters … as if he could protect them from the evils that took him and held him captive for seventy years. Bucky wanted to protect Ghislaine and the other children from everything, even himself … even his nightmares.

There was nothing Rassilon could do about that. This was among the things that Bucky had to work out on his own, much as they all wanted to help. And they all did want to help, did small things. They all found ways to take care of Bucky without him realizing it. Tosh tinkered with his metal arm, not so much to enhance its capabilities as to make it more comfortable for him to use. Rassilon couldn’t count the number of times he entered Tosh’s room to find her sitting cross-legged on her bed, totally immersed in Bucky’s arm … and the former Winter Soldier staring at her with a rather bemused expression. Ianto looked after Bucky the way he did with Jack (well, not _completely_ the way he looked after Rassilon’s child) … by ensuring that he ate and making sure his clothes stayed in good working order. Every time Tosh made adjustments to Bucky’s arm, Ianto would make sartorial adjustments of his own.

Those two looked after him physically. Bucky actually talked to Liam, Suzie, and Eleanor. While Suzie had intimate knowledge of prolonged bad behavior, and Liam spent a good portion of his life dealing with the consequences of bad behavior (his grandfather’s, his sister’s, his adoptive mother’s), Eleanor understood him in a way the other two couldn’t. Even while under the influence of the Glove, Suzie was still making her own choices … Liam had the baggage of entire Colasanto family, as well as his feelings for Jack. But Eleanor … while it was her choice to act as a host to Dite, she still had a better idea of acting contrary to her nature. Dite wasn’t evil, by any stretch of the imagination, but she also wasn’t terribly nice at times.

“You said a minute ago that I was becoming more and more like Ianto,” Bucky said, interrupting Rassilon’s musings. The Time Lord returned his attention to the only other Howling Commando who remained, and the young mean repeated, “You said I was becoming more and more like Ianto every day. Is that a good thing? And are you sure it’s safe for me to be around children?” Rassilon decided to tackle the second question, because the last thing his newest child needed was the distraction of being worried about the safety of others.

“We know when things will not become safe, Bucky … we’ve all worked through traumas, and we all know the signs. We know what to look for, even in extreme cases. If you start to show signs of losing control, we will take steps to ensure both the safety of the children … as well as your own safety,” Rassilon promised. Bucky took a deep breath and nodded, and Rassilon added, “As to whether it’s a good thing or bad … that’s for you to decide. Baby steps, dear boy … baby steps.” Bucky glowered at him for a moment … and then stuck his tongue out. The Time Lord roared with laughter and gently cuffed the back of Bucky’s head, added, “You’re learning, my boy. You’re learning.”

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

‘ _That’s for you to decide_.’ How was it possible for those to be the five most terrifying words in the English language? In any language, really … and it wasn’t so surprising, especially not when you used to be a flesh and blood machine whose only purpose, sole reason for existence, was to kill others? For seventy years, that was his life … be brought out and defrosted, given his mission, and if even the hint of a conscience developed, he was ‘reset.’ There were times when James Barnes’ fury against his captors threatened not to surge up, but overpower him.

Rassilon teased him about coming out here to look at the sunset, and this was why. It was easier to deal with his fury, self-loathing, disgust and sense of betrayal when he was looking at the sunset and the mountains. It was a desperately needed reminder of just how tiny he really was. Bucky bowed his head, taking slow breaths to calm down, beginning the litany that Eleanor taught him as soon as he and Suzie returned from Washington, “I am James Buchanan Barnes. I was born in Brooklyn, Steve Rogers was my best friend growing up, and I will not let HYDRA win.” She told him that the words didn’t really matter, the main purpose was to give him a center. The fact that he was repeating facts about himself was a bonus. She didn’t think that it would bring his memories back, but at the very least, it would be a talisman.

And it _was_ a talisman, as everyone here was for him. Strange, that … none of them were from his old life, and yet, they were tethering him to this new world. The Winter Soldier knew about cell phones and laptop computers and tablets … but Bucky Barnes didn’t, and there was so much to learn, so much he’d missed. These people were inordinately patient, explaining things that, to them, were second nature. That wasn’t taking into account the … issue, he had once while Rassilon was out of town, meeting up with the oft-mentioned Jack. Ianto startled him, and got an ass-kicking for it. The Winter Soldier took over, and when Bucky returned, he wasn’t just mortified, he was devastated at the damage he inflicted on the young Welshman. But Ianto smiled at him painfully, reminded him that they all knew better than to startle a former assassin with a severe case of PTSD. However, he also didn’t argue when Bucky spent the next three weeks, waiting on him hand and foot. In fact, Suzie laughingly accused Ianto of milking it for all it was worth. Bucky was amused to note that Ianto didn’t argue with her. Then again, it seemed that the only people who argued with Suzie were Rassilon (also the only person who could get Suzie to do something she didn’t want to do) and Lily (who seemed to see Suzie as a surrogate mother, much to the older woman’s chagrin).

And the others … they all found ways into his heart. Even Artie, whom Ianto thoroughly disliked for reasons no one told him about yet. There was a story there, Bucky was sure of that much, and his instincts said that it had to do with Ianto’s former lover Jack. (Yes, he was aware of it, and yes, he was aware of it during his first life … he was still figuring if it mattered. Right now, he was leaning toward no) There was also Liam, who was the grandson of the man who had this place built (also one of Jack’s former lovers. Bucky was looking forward to meeting this Jack), and Lily, who was Liam’s daughter in all but blood. The only person whom he didn’t like, who he couldn’t get comfortable with no matter how things played out was Olivia Colasanto, Liam’s older sister. It wasn’t the burns that covered most of her body … there was something vaguely reptilian about her, in the way she talked about Zola and the other scientists, the ones who had done this to him. She hadn’t done it recently, not since Lily snapped at her that she sounded just like someone/something called the Families, but that light in her eyes was still there, and Bucky just didn’t trust her not to turn him over to someone for experimentation.

He … Bucky tensed as he heard footfall behind him. It stopped short and Ghislaine said hesitantly, “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, Mr. Bucky. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Mr. Rassilon said that you got a lot on your mind.” Bucky turned slowly, before dropping to one knee before her. She was such a pretty little girl … aside from her pale orange skin and lavender eyes, she could have easily passed for a human being. While her hair wasn’t actually hair … more like extremely, extremely slim tentacles, it was only noticeable from up close.

After everything that happened to him over the last several months, learning that the Earth really wasn’t alone in the universe was far from strange to Bucky. It was even less surprising that Steve was among those defending their hometown against the Chitauri during the attack two years earlier. What did surprise him (only slightly) was the revelation that Ghislaine’s own world was overrun by the Chitauri. Ghislaine’s parents pushed her through the portal that was the Rift, praying that wherever she ended up would be better. They hadn’t known. They had no way of knowing. For all they knew, she could have ended up in a worse place. But … it was a chance worth taking, in their view. As Ghislaine nestled in Tosh’s arms, Bucky asked if there was a chance they survived as well. Rassilon’s pinched expression told him everything he needed to know.

Bucky knelt in front of the little girl now, saying, “I’m just fine, Ghislaine … and worrying about me isn’t your job.” Much to his secret amusement, her small face immediately set into a scowl, reminding him suddenly of another stubborn six year old from so long ago. Everything about that face was different … everything except the expression. Bucky swept the little girl into his arms, making her giggle, and said, “It really isn’t, and did you run away from Miss Suzie while she was brushing your tentacles out, little punk?”

The endearment slipped out without him even realizing it, not until Ghislaine retorted indignantly, “I am not a punk! I’m nice! And I didn’t run away. She was talking to Mr. Artie and ignoring me, so I came to find you. Mr. Bucky, what does douchewad fucknuzzle mean? I think it’s bad, ‘cause Miss Tosh started scolding Mr. Artie when he told Miss ‘Livia that’s what she was. He told her that she was a douchewad fucknuzzle and that her grandpa would be mad at her.” Bucky nearly choked on his own tongue, because there were some things that little girls should _never_ hear and no dame should ever be called, including Olivia Colasanto.

“Actually, Little Pitcher, that was what _she_ called _him_ … I think someone has been changing the dosage of her meds again. She’s been acting a little more hat-stand than usual. Although, to be perfectly honest, if someone ever bumped one of _my_ still-healing burns while transporting me into another area, I would probably say the same thing … if not worse. Not that you’re to repeat that. In fact, I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, understood? I will not hesitate to wash your mouth out with soap if you do say it. And don’t think I won’t find out about it, because I will. You know I will,” Suzie commented, approaching the pair. Ghislaine literally froze in Bucky’s arms, and he thought her head would come off her shoulders, she was nodding so hard. And really, Bucky could believe that. Not just that Suzie would wash Ghislaine’s mouth out with soap if she swore like that again (and if she didn’t, Bucky would) … but that it was actually Olivia who called Artemus that. She was a dame … that wasn’t necessarily the same thing as a lady. Peggy Carter had been a lady … Olivia Colasanto didn’t deserve to be put in the same category as Agent Carter.

“Speaking of little pitchers, I think it’s time for this little pitcher to be in bed,” Bucky said, biting back a grin at the scowl which crossed Ghislaine’s face, a twin to the frown she wore earlier. There were some things that never changed, and children not wanting to go to bed on time was one of them. He could remember two little boys wanting to stay up long after they should have been asleep, and his heart clenched. He could see them both, so very clearly … in his minds’ eye, he could see a blond head and a dark head nestled close together. His arms tightened around Ghislaine, who responded by kissing his cheek.

“Oh yes. She was definitely found by Jack,” Suzie observed, reaching over to tickle Ghislaine’s ribs. The little girl squawked and tried to curl away from Suzie’s waggling fingers. Not that it did any good, and it was only Bucky’s uncomfortable hold on the wriggling child that prevented the tickle attack from getting worse. Jack again. Bucky wondered when he would finally meet this Jack, who was the catalyst for so many things around him. He would have to make up his mind on his own, though. There was entirely too much conflicting information. And then he smiled. ‘ _Make up his own mind_ ’ should have been just as terrifying as ‘ _that’s for you to decide_.’ In time, he would figure out why it wasn’t. In time.

 

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

It was a bit incongruous, seeing a former assassin with a metal arm carrying a far-more-tired-than-she-was-willing-to-admit little girl to bed. Then again, Suzie’s life became all about incongruous when she first joined Torchwood. It got even more interesting when Rassilon brought her back to life … had it really been two years now? She shook her head, astonished that so much time passed since her rebirth. Suzie liked to think that she was doing much better with her third chance, far more than she did with her first two.

It was still strange for her, when she thought about it. Koschei told Ghislaine the night before to ‘ _ask your mum if you can help me_ ,’ and he didn’t mean Tosh. He didn’t mean Olivia (God help them all). He didn’t even mean Eleanor. He meant Suzie. From the moment Artemus carried the little girl from the plane a few months earlier, it was Suzie whom she latched onto as her ‘female caretaker,’ as Koschei put it. Who would have thought that she would be anyone’s mother, even if it was a foster mother? Then again, her third chance was all about the unexpected. From helping to raise an alien foundling to running Flat Holm 2.0 to supporting a super-assassin suffering from the worst case of PTSD ever, everything about Suzie’s life was unexpected, and she’d never been happier. She even found a man who could love her, sharp edges and all. It wasn’t about sex, it was … it was so much more.

She watched from the doorway as Bucky tucked Ghislaine into bed, suppressing as she tried to wheedle one last story, one last song out of the former Winter Soldier. It was true enough that she had him wrapped around her little pinkie finger, and if she asked him to tell her stories about Captain America, he always told her heavily edited versions of missions carried out by the Howling Commandos. But he drew the line at songs. She got two songs, and that was it … and he chose the songs.

“He has made enormous progress in the last few months, my dear girl,” Rassilon observed quietly and Suzie nodded. The Time Lord went on thoughtfully, “It’s intriguing, how family is defined. That little one lost her entire family when the Chitauri infested her planet, but she found a new family here. And not with a married couple … no, you’ve become her mother and Bucky has become her father. He fears himself with her, and perhaps he is right to … but Bucky counterbalances the Winter Soldier where Ghislaine is concerned.” Suzie thought about that for several moments, turning his words over in her mind.

On the face of it, allowing Bucky anywhere near Ghislaine was a horrendously bad idea. Even Suzie had her concerns about it when Rassilon made no move to keep the child away from the recovering man. But he was never anything but gentle with her. Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe spending time with Ghislaine forced Bucky to maintain his control, instead of reacting instinctively? It was a strong possibility, and one that she never considered before. Bucky was painfully aware of his reflexes and his strength. Every time he looked at her throat for a week, he winced.

And that reminded her … She said softly, “You know, you were right … to send me to Washington. It was where I needed to be.” Rassilon looked at her curiously, and Suzie continued, “Max is dead. I can’t make … I can’t make amends with him. But Bucky?   He’s alive, and what I couldn’t do for Max, I can do for him. I’ve never really faced up to what I did to Max. I’ve tried to atone for what I did to the others … the lives I took, I’ve tried to balance with the lives I saved. And the pain I inflicted on my teammates, the people I cared about, I’ve been trying to put that right as well. But Max … I turned him into a monster, into a killing machine, just like HYDRA did to Bucky.”

The words were thick in her throat, or maybe those were unshed tears. Rassilon offered her one of his most inscrutable smiles and answered, “That isn’t why I sent you to DC, Suzie.” Wait, what? In spite of herself, Suzie wiped at her face, even though no tears were falling. Rassilon repeated, perhaps sensing that she was thrown off kilter by his words, “I didn’t send you to DC as a way for you to atone. I sent you to DC because you were the most capable of taking down Bucky if he went hat-stand, as you put it so interestingly.”

For a moment, Suzie’s ability to breathe vanished. He hadn’t … he hadn’t sent her to DC, to retrieve Bucky, as a way for her to atone for what she did to Max? But … but, the parallels between Bucky and Max, two men who were turned into something they were never meant to be by … Rassilon continued in that painfully gentle voice he used when explaining something to any of them that they didn’t want to hear, “It was Koschei who pointed out the parallels to me, the ones between Bucky and Max Tresilian … and that was after you and Eleanor returned with Bucky. I suppose I could have sent Eleanor alone to DC, but I wasn’t sure if she was yet strong enough to take down Bucky if his reflexes kicked in before his brain did. Yes, she has come far, but you’re still my most deadly child, aside from Jack.”

She wasn’t sure if she should take that as a compliment or an insult, and so she chose an alternate path. Allowing herself a slightly brittle laugh, Suzie observed, “Well, that will teach me not make assumptions about you again. What is it that Natalie says sometimes when an assumption is made? Oh, yeah … assuming makes an ass out of ‘u’ and me.” Suzie nearly died laughing the first time she heard her anchor think that during a conversation with Dite. And that was another change. There was a time when Suzie regarded her connection to Natalie Tregarth as a taint on the American woman. There were still times when she saw it that way. The rest of the time, though, she regarded Natalie as one of her anchors. Suzie’s road back to redemption was long and painful and ongoing, and having even muted access to the thoughts of an ordinary woman helped Suzie to grope her way back to sanity.

“You should never make assumptions about me, dear child. I have lived for far, far longer than you have. And by the same token, I must never make assumptions about you, because you have lived a very short time. Your thought process is as alien to me as yours is to a Sontaran. Am I glad that you were able to sort out that part of your life and story? Absolutely, without question, and I’m very proud of you. Is that the reason I did it? No,” Rassilon answered. Again, Suzie couldn’t argue with his logic, couldn’t fault the analysis. Dammit, that sucked! 

“Miss Suzie, you and Grandpa Rass are being silly!” Ghislaine called around a yawn that would have broken the jaw of a human child. Suzie couldn’t help but laugh at her, especially when Ghislaine scowled at her. Again. Bucky’s low voice soothed her as he gently urged her to lie down and listen to the story, because he would tell her one more, and then it was time to go to sleep. Ghislaine snuggled down into her pillows, her tiny hand holding onto Bucky’s flesh and blood fingers. 

Rassilon murmured, “He fears for her when he’s around, but the truth is, she’s never more safe than when she’s with him. He doesn’t trust himself or his self-control, but he trusts us to keep her safe from him. This is yet another piece of the puzzle that puts James Buchanan Barnes back together again. A bit like Humpty Dumpty, yes?” Suzie mentally ran through the rhyme in her mind, before shaking her head. A glance over her shoulder told her that Rassilon was frowning. Oh. It wasn’t often when she was one up on him.

She told him, “That’s not how it goes. It’s all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again. And I choose to believe that won’t be Bucky’s fate. The man who broke seventy years of programming to save his best friend’s life and found his way to the Smithsonian to find out more about their shared past? No. No, that won’t be his fate. I won’t _let_ it be his fate!” The words were spoken fiercely, though without heat. She wasn’t angry, at least, not with Bucky. But she would bring all of her tenacity and stubborn determination to bear against this problem. The darkness wouldn’t take Bucky, the way it took Max. She would make sure there would be no one to shove him into the darkness, as she had done to Max. Not again. Never again.

She was unaware of speaking aloud, until Rassilon’s hands came to rest on her shoulders and he murmured, “I believe you, Suzie. But it will not just be you pushing back the darkness. All of us will be helping, even if not all of us have the impetus that you do. Just remember that there are others to help in your atoning, not just Bucky, as deserving as he may be.” Suzie nodded and Rassilon continued, “For now, return to your husband. It’s long past time you were abed.”

Once more, she nodded … because she was tired, and she longed for the safety of her husband’s arms. He was another one of her anchors, and she was determined to find a way to deserve her amazing man. Suzie murmured, “Just make sure that he gets some sleep as well. And guard his dreams, if you can. Piece by piece, gesture by gesture, we’re bringing winter to an end.” The Winter Soldier would not cease to be, but then, neither did the season he was named for. He would retreat, for a time. The imagery of it made her smile, and made her think of the spring she was seeing all around her. Yes. Winter was coming to an end.

 

 

FIN

 


End file.
